Vanilla
by columbiachica
Summary: Marissa never made it away in The Model Home; what would have happened?


****

Vanilla

Disclaimer: I certainly do not own these characters. I regret that fact, too.

****

Author's Note: Eh, this isn't my best work. But I had to fill in the missing scene in "The Model Home." 

****

Dedication: To **Marissa**, who encouraged this fic and even read it before I posted it. I know. Brave girl. 

The pale vanilla of her scent swirled around Ryan's head and he made a split-second decision: he needed to catch her. Grabbing his coat for no particular reason, he jogged outside and found Marissa in her car, looking down as though about to key the ignition.

"Marissa!" he yelled. She couldn't hear him through the glass, but he continued to call her name as he ran toward the vehicle. "Marissa," he gasped, tapping on the window.

The clicking noise distracted her from starting the car and she met Ryan's eyes through the window. He was panting a little, looking at her pleadingly. Relenting, she threw the keys in her purse and released the door handle. Ryan stepped back and let her out.

They stood across from each other, a foot of distance lingering between them. Neither said anything as they started to the house together. Inside, Ryan gestured around, indicating that she could sit wherever. Marissa chose the floor, next to a candle she had picked out. Ryan sat against the wall, slumped with his jacket in his hand.

"You going to Austin?" Marissa finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

"I don't know."

Marissa looked at him searchingly. "Is there really a guy there?"

"Yes," Ryan said, shifting his eyes away from her, looking instead at the unfinished ceiling.

"And you'd really just run away?"

"I don't have much of a choice."

"You could go to the group home."

Ryan just looked at her and Marissa nodded and looked to the ground. With her finger, she traced a pattern in the sawdust piling up on the floor. It occurred to her that her skirt would be coated in a fine layer, but it didn't really matter. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at Ryan. The candlelight was fluttering across his face, illuminating him with a saffron glow. His head was tipped back against the wall, his eyes scrutinizing the ceiling.

"What about your mom?" Marissa said. "I mean, aren't you going to try and find her?"

"She can find me if she wants to," Ryan said, shifting his gaze from the ceiling to Marissa. "But she won't."

"How do you know? Maybe they just moved."

"I didn't think you were such an optimist."

Marissa shrugged. "I don't want you to leave." There was a thick pause. "Neither does Seth," she added.

"Seth has his family."

"Seth doesn't have any friends."

"Seth has you now," Ryan said, tilting his head back again and gazing at the vaulted ceiling.

"Just because we both like the Ramones doesn't mean we're friends," Marissa pointed out. "We won't hang out at school or anything."

"Too good for him?"

"Our crowds don't really mix. Seth wouldn't do it."

"Seth doesn't have a crowd."

"Exactly."

Ryan just shrugged. "So, you spending the night?"

"Yeah."

"Don't you have a party or something?"

Her tone disdainful, Marissa said, "It's Summer's."

"I thought you and Summer were friends."

"Only because our dads do business together."

"Seems pretty fake."

"Everything with Summer is fake."

Ryan raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Yep." He lowered his knees and stretched his legs out in front of him. "And what about Luke?"

"Luke will just have to deal," said Marissa. "He's a big boy."

"He thinks so."

Marissa cracked a grin and looked over to Ryan. He was staring back, his eyes twinkling a little. "How about another CD?"

"Sure."

"I'll be right back." Marissa stood and walked outside to her car. She ejected the CD from her player and frowned. _Women of Jazz_? Ryan would probably kill her. No guy likes to be forced to listen to angsty females. Her CD catalogue was lying on the passenger seat and Marissa skimmed through it. _The Lucksmiths_, _The Clash_, _Maroon 5_, _the Sex Pistols_… _The Pixies_. Bingo.

She came back in brandishing the CD. "The Pixies," she announced, trading the CD in the player. "You'll like them," she assured him, taking her seat again, conveniently marked by the indent in the sawdust.

"Okay."

Marissa scooted over against the wall, next to Ryan. Shoving a piece of hair behind her ear, she looked shyly over at him. "How's the house working?"

"Fine. Thanks."

"And the loofah?"

"It looks very nice sitting over there." Ryan pointed to a small pile of lotions, soaps and the loofah.

"It does, doesn't it? You're quite the decorator."

"Yeah, well, I don't plan on hanging around long enough to decorate."

"So you _are_ going to Austin."

"Maybe. Maybe just go to Seattle, try to find something there."

"How are you getting there?"

"I'll hitch, I guess."

"That sounds like a great plan," Marissa said dryly.

"It's the best I've got."

"Why don't you just ask Mr. Cohen if you can stay with them?"

"Mr. Cohen's done enough for me already."

Marissa just sighed and leaned against the wall. "Here Comes Your Man" played the undercurrent to the quietus. After a while she said: "I think my dad's in big trouble." Ryan just turned his head against the wall and looked at her. "He never asks people for money."

"What did your mom say?"

"I don't think she knows." Marissa turned her head as well and met his eyes, their faces just inches from each other's. "She wouldn't understand." Marissa could see Ryan formulating a comment, but she avoided it. "Oh, I love this part." She sprang up and turned the volume up. The guitar solo echoed throughout the empty house. "Here comes your man," she sang with the music. Ryan smiled.

Marissa lowered the volume and went back over next to Ryan. "They're good," he said, referring to the band.

"They're great."

The darkness thickened outside and soon the only light was from the candles and the city burning below them. The sky turned to tar, viscous, enveloping. Marissa was beginning to get chilly with the breeze blowing freely through some glass-less windows. Without saying anything, Ryan offered his coat to her and Marissa took it from him. Their hands brushed in the exchange and Marissa felt a very pleasant flame rush up her arm.

"Thanks," she said, wrapping it around her shoulders. It smelled like an odd mixture of Chino and the O.C. Her shoulders were buried in it.

"Sure."

"Don't you need it?"

"I'm fine," Ryan said calmly. "It's nice."

Marissa took another discreet whiff of the coat, wondering what these smells meant to Ryan. She looked over at him, his face even more contrasted what with the tar night and decided to ask. "What was it like? Growing up in Chino."

"Why do you drink so much?"

"I asked you first."

"And that matters because…"

"I'll answer if you answer."

Ryan glanced briefly at her, then shrugged. "Think of your childhood, then imagine the exact opposite."

"Happy?" Marissa said bitterly.

Raising his eyebrows again, Ryan gave her a long look. "My parents and my brother and I lived in this old, crappy house. My dad was a factory worker and my mom drank too much to do anything, especially look after a couple of kids. One month, my dad couldn't make rent, so he decided to rob this place and pawn the stuff off, but he got caught and now he's in jail." He paused and looked to Marissa, who was listening interestedly. "And then my mom finally got an okay job, one she could do when she was hung over."

"She's a financial planner?"

A small grin cracked Ryan's face. "She and my brother and I went to an older, crappier house in a worse part of town and then the boyfriends started."

"That's it?"

"It wasn't that exciting."

"Why were you stealing the car?"

"You have to answer my question."

With a sigh, Marissa looked away. "I drink because it's what people do at parties."

"Most people don't drink enough to pass out."

"It helps with problems, okay? It's better to be passed out than conscious."

Ryan's eyebrows shot up again and his head resumed its position against the wall, staring straight up. "Just ask my mom," he said.

"So, why were you stealing the car?"

"Why are you dating Luke?" Ryan paused. "My brother did it. He just took me along. He wanted to teach me."

"Like a career?"

"I suppose."

"What about high school?"

"What about it?"

"You'd have a diploma soon enough. Why steal cars as a career?"

"Pays more than McDonald's." Ryan drew his knees up again and glanced at Marissa. "So, why are you dating Luke?"

Marissa shrugged. "Luke's all right. To me."

"You date him because he's all right to you? Might as well date Seth."

"He's popular. He's got money. My parents think those are good things."

"Oh." Ryan's head tipped down toward the ground; he studied his feet in his beat-up footwear.

"Debaser!" Marissa exclaimed, jumping to turn the volume up again. "This song's great!" she yelled over the cacophony.

Ryan stood up and turned it down. "It's too loud."

"Sorry. I forgot."

Ryan walked across the room and looked out the window, peeling back the brown paper. Outside, things were completely still, not a rustle except for the trees in the wind. Satisfied, Ryan snapped the paper into place and stepped away. Marissa didn't notice him turn around; she was sitting close to the boom box, bobbing her head to the music. Tilting his head to the side, Ryan watched her for a minute.

The song ended and Marissa looked for Ryan. Her head swiveled to the wall and then over to the window, where she saw him staring at her. Her face shifted into an unsure smile and Ryan smiled a tiny smile back.

"Hey, you wanna get out of here?" Marissa asked, breaking their long, long stare and shutting the music off.

Ryan glanced around and said, "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Trust me, we won't run into Luke here."

Hesitating, Ryan finally just nodded. Marissa, still wearing his coat, danced around, blowing out most of the candles. Ryan followed her out to her car and sat slumped in the passenger's seat.

The conversation on the way to their destination was minimal. After a while, Marissa broke the silence. "So what did you do for fun in Chino?"

Ryan shrugged. "I don't know. Played ball, I guess."

"Didn't you go to parties?"

"Nope."

"Wow. Parties are, like, the only form of recreation in the O.C."

"I noticed."

Marissa made a right and stopped in front of a seedy-looking diner. "Here we are."

"Here?" Ryan jerked his thumb toward the establishment.

"Yep." Seeing Ryan's shocked expression, Marissa laughed and shut the car off. "Come on."

Ryan walked in behind Marissa, peeking around the corner, wondering what on earth they could be doing here. The clientele didn't look like Marissa's O.C. crowed at all. They looked shabby and tired, leaning over their food haggardly. No one looked up when they came in.

Marissa selected a booth by the window for them. She took Ryan's coat off and laid it on the bench next to her. "So?" she asked.

"It's…"

"My dad took me here when I was little. They make the best ice cream sundaes."

Ryan nodded slowly and Marissa grinned toothily at him. The waitress, best described as frumpy, made her way over, order pad in her hand. "What do you want?" she asked, despite the fact that the menus hadn't moved.

"Three-scoop ice cream sundae," Marissa said.

The waitress looked back and forth between the two. "Two spoons?" she said tiredly.

"Yes."

"Okay."

Marissa looked back to Ryan, who still looked surprised. "Wait, you'll love it. What was the last ice cream sundae you had?"

It took Ryan a long time to think of it. "I think I was seven," he finally guessed.

"Then it's high time." Marissa smiled again and looked out the window. Her eyes widened slightly and she shoved her hips down in the booth so that her head didn't stick out of the window.

"What?" Ryan asked.

"Scoot," she ordered, and Ryan obediently lowered himself as well.

"What?"

"Luke's truck just drove by," Marissa said. "I bet he recognized my Jeep." Cautiously, Marissa raised her head above the windowsill. Sure enough, Luke's gigantic truck careened past again, but flew right by Marissa's car. "Or maybe not," Marissa said, getting the courage to sit up another few inches. She waited another minute or so before sitting all the way up. "I think we're good."

Ryan sat up as well and Marissa took a napkin out of the dispenser. She slowly shredded it and balled the shreds into tiny balls. The two didn't say anything to each other.

"Here ya go. Three scoops, two spoons," the waitress said, banging a check on the table with it. Ryan looked embarrassed when Marissa grabbed it and set it on the bench next to her, beside her purse.

"All right, here we go." Marissa handed him a spoon and Ryan took it, then waited. "Go on," Marissa said, a hint of laughter in her voice.

Ryan reluctantly took a stab at one of the sides. He leaned over the table, close to the sundae, in an attempt not to spill. The soft ice cream melted sublimely in his mouth, cooling, and the hot fudge paradoxically warmed him. "Mmm," he said.

"I told you." Marissa bent close as well and took her own bite. "Mmm," she said as well.

They ate the whole thing without conversation, save for the sporadic sounds of pleasure. Marissa kept looking up at Ryan through her eyelashes, smiling with satisfaction.

"What did I tell you?" she asked when they were done.

"You were right," Ryan conceded.

"Ha," said Marissa. "Here, you wanna start the car while I pay?" She offered the keys to him. Ryan's face broke into a quick smile. Marissa looked at her hand and laughed. "Just don't steal it," she teased.

"Got it."

Ryan climbed in the passenger's side and leaned over the middle console to start the car. It hummed quietly as he watched Marissa through the window. She leaned her elbows against the aged Formica countertop and put her chin in her hand. One leg lifted off the ground and swung in the air as she waited. He could see her say something to the cashier and shove her receipt absently in her purse. "Hey," she greeted him, hopping in.

"Hey. Thanks," he added uncomfortably.

"No problem."

They smiled at each other and Marissa turned the music up. Ryan leaned his head against the plush leather headrest and looked out the window until they got to the model home. Marissa parked way off to the side this time, obviously to avoid being noticed. As she shut the car off, she yawned widely.

"Tired?"

"Hey, riding on the back of someone's bike will do that to you," Marissa said with a smile.

Inside, it was pleasantly dark. Ryan unzipped his tent and remembered his single sleeping bag. "Here," he said, pointing in the tent. "You can sleep in there."

"What about you?"

"I'll sleep out here," Ryan said vaguely.

"We can both fit in the tent."

Ryan cleared his throat awkwardly. "That's okay. I'd rather…"

Marissa looked to the tent and then to the ground. "It's not like anything's going to happen," she said quietly.

"Right." They both avoided each other's looks for a while. "Go ahead," Ryan said.

Marissa toed her shoes off and crawled inside the tent. He could hear her chafing against the bottom as she settled down. After a minute, Ryan gently pushed the door open.

"Ready," Marissa said, snuggled in the huge green sleeping bag.

Ryan climbed in and threw his shoes out. He carefully lay against the wall, as far away from her as he could get.

"There's room in here," Marissa said, indicating the sleeping bag.

"I don't—"

"Please?" Marissa asked softly.

Ryan, not breaking eye contact with her, slid over slowly and inserted himself into the sleeping bag.

"There's still room," Marissa whispered.

"Not much," Ryan said quietly.

"I know."

And then their bodies were flush. Marissa peered up at him sleepily, then slung her arm around his shoulder. "Good night," she said.

"Night." 

Marissa shut her eyes and put her head against Ryan's chest. A minute later, Ryan tentatively wrapped his arm around her waist and shut his eyes as well.


End file.
